Pretty Girls Don't Cry (2 page)

She caught herself covering her nose with one hand and pulled the arm down with a jerk.
Confidence
, she told herself.
Believe in your abilities.

A woman strode into the waiting room. She wore low heels and had gorgeous legs and a noticeable baby bulge sticking out of her black dress. A nubby-looking shawl draped across her shoulders, and she had the face of a mermaid amidst wavy gold hair. “I swear I just heard you on the radio,” the woman said. “A minute ago!”

Nora stood, carefully, and shook the woman's hand. “Must have been a pre-recorded promo. There's only one of me. Thank you for meeting me so late in the day.”

The woman, Sue Harding, who had spoken to Nora previously by phone and email, waved a hand. “No worries. We burn the midnight oil around here all the time. I might bring in one of those kiddie pools and give birth to the baby right here so I don't miss any client phone calls.”

As she spoke, Sue whirled around and beckoned Nora to follow her on a tour of the office. Unlike the modest radio station, everything—and everyone—in the ad agency had a veneer that read
hip, expensive, and sexy
. Nora wished she'd worn the red silk blouse, but it was too late now, as she shook the hands of a dozen people with gleaming white teeth and nice cologne or perfume.

They ended the tour in the board room, overlooking the park, which had a tinge of pale green from the budding leaves on the trees. The creamy flowers on the board room table,
lysanthia
, were the essence of spring.

Sue pulled out her chair first, at the head of the table. She sat with the ease of a belly-prosthetic-wearing model playing a pregnant woman, and gestured to the seat at her right.

“I've enjoyed my time in radio,” Nora said, “but I am ready for a change.”

“I listened to your whole show today, and I loved that you played Liz Phair,” Sue said, “though she makes me feel so naughty. Must be the pregnancy hormones. Ca-razy.”

Nora laughed, unsure where to go with that. Radio had made her quick with comebacks, but she was out of her element here, hoping for her first post-college job from a non-family member.

Sue opened a folder and looked over what Nora recognized as her resume. “No sales experience,” Sue said.

“Technically, no, but I do interface with the station's corporate clients, and in the past, I've worked with Bobby, from your office, on some of his projects. In fact he's the one who suggested ...”

Sue had already closed the folder and looked bored. “Bobby,” she said flatly. She rolled her chair away from the table and opened the glass door of the board room. She called out, “Bobby! Join us in the board room.”

Seconds later, Bobby rushed over, staring at Nora through the glass walls as he walked by, and then from inside the board room. She steadied her hands on her lap and let him look. He was a friend, even though they'd only spoken on the phone.

Bobby didn't look at all like his voice. His voice had seemed older, but he was only thirty at most, average height and build, with boyishly pink cheeks and red hair. “Nora in the afternoon!” he shouted.

It must have been the accent, the posh British accent Bobby had, that made him seem older—and taller—over the phone. “Let's have a look at you,” he said, exaggerating by making a scanning movement with his head. “Just as I pictured.”

Cutting him, off, Sue said, “Bobby, do you have that research for me?”

Nora wondered exactly what research Bobby had on
her
. The interview had been his idea.

The two advertising people proceeded to talk about market research and budgets, and not about Nora at all. All around the fishbowl of a board room, the white-teethed ad agency people gathered up their coats and purses and turned their computer monitors off, leaving for the day.

Nora pulled the bottled water from her purse and took a sip. Despite all her planning and studying up on interview confidence, this was not going well. She should have demanded a fresh coffee.

Bobby reached his hand toward her. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you.” He squeezed her hand. “In the flesh.” His red-brown eyebrows twitched with flirtation.

Sue said, “That'll be all,” and Bobby left quickly. A row of overhead lights turned off.

Sue shifted halfway out of her chair, perching on the edge as she asked Nora, “Any questions?”

Nora did not have any questions, not anymore. If Sue couldn't be bothered to grant her a proper interview, she wasn't going to debase herself further.

She had been prepared to ask about benefits packages as a sign that she
had value as an employee
, but at that moment, she didn't believe it. There would be no point.

*

She made it to the car without crying. She made it halfway home without crying.

She still hadn't shed a tear when she thought about barbecue rotisserie chicken. Her stomach grumbling, she pulled into the Trader Joe's parking lot.

She got a carrying basket and loaded it with the steaming chicken, as well as three kinds of cookies and four kinds of licorice. Once in line, she realized she was standing behind an attractive, familiar-looking man. Was it someone she'd just met at the advertising agency? Could her day get worse?

He turned his head, revealing a handsome jawline with the slightest shadow. It was Aaron, the musician who'd been at the station earlier.

Nora stepped back and moved slowly to avoid catching his gaze. Switching to another line would draw attention, but if she stayed where she was, just off his periphery, she'd stay invisible.

He was buying a bottle of wine, some fancy cheeses, and a bundle of flowers. Nora couldn't remember the last time a man had bought her flowers. Of course Mr. Handsome would be on his way to a date with someone, and of course Nora would have an assortment that made her look like a binge eater.

Aaron made small talk with the cashier, a young woman delighted with the attention. The guy had really nice ears. Even from behind. Nora snuck a look at his bum, which was round and nice and gave her a little shiver.

After he left without seeing her, Nora stepped forward and attempted to be just as effervescent as Aaron. The cashier, a cat-eyed girl with a name tag reading
Ginessa
, yawned twice while loading the groceries into Nora's canvas bags.

Nora left the store, got in her car and tore open one of the bags of licorice. She decided to play The Mirror Game.

Mindful that nobody in the parking lot was paying attention, she tilted her rear-view mirror toward herself. She examined her face, inch by inch. She started with the chin, admiring the shape of her jaw, her full, perfectly-shaped lips, and even the divot under her nose. She shut her eyes and tilted the mirror up quickly, then angled it down bit by bit, admiring her nicely-shaped forehead and her carefully-plucked, arched eyebrows, then her lovely eyes. Women at makeup counters always said her eyes were her best feature. When she was younger, she took that as a compliment, but eventually she realized it was just what people said. Everybody has pretty eyes. 

Nora ate some of the licorice, then took a piece of unopened mail from the front seat, turned her head to the side, and held the envelope up to mask part of her nose. How much would plastic surgery cost, anyway? She didn't know much about the surgery, except its incredibly unflattering name: rhinoplasty.

“I could get a rhino. A nose job,” she said to the mirror. “Then I could get any kind of other job. Rhino. Nose job. Job, job, job.” She repeated the words until they lost all meaning. “Rhinopolo-de-nosification-ism,” she said with a giggle.

As she drove the rest of the way home, she opened one of the bags of cookies. The sugar-laden foods buoyed her spirits just enough for her to realize that she was not the kind of girl who binges on junk food and feels sorry for herself at home. There was a time and place to feel bad, but it was not tonight. Not on a Friday.

Nora pulled into her driveway and phoned the one person in the world who would cheer her up: Tianne.

When Tianne picked up, Nora said, “I'm ready to go to Mars.”

Chapter 2

Tianne squealed with delight at the mention of Mars, the new and reportedly sexy wine bar. She yelled something with her hand muffling the receiver.

“What's going on?” Nora asked. “He's not back on the boob, is he?”

“Nohoho,” Tianne breathed into the phone. “Weaned. And Mommy is ready for some fun. No lactation means alcohol is a go-go. I'm so glad you're single.”

Nora held the phone away from her ear long enough to give it a cross look. “Yeah, me too,” she said sarcastically.

“Oh, you should invite your friend from work, the pretty little one with the nice hair. Kylie. I like her.”

“Mixing work friends and real friends? No thank you.”

“What's this
real friends
bullshit? The only people who shouldn't mix are adults and toddlers, trust me.”

“Fine. I guess there is no such thing as work life and regular life. It's all just one big, weird, messed-up life, isn't it?”

“Yes, and then you have kids and become the chauffeur for their lives. But not tonight. Momma's gonna party tonight!”

“Promise you won't bite me again.”

“Promise you'll keep me away from tequila. I have to teach yoga in the morning.”

“I'll do what I can, but you're sneaky,” Nora said with a chuckle. She took off her seat belt and shifted to sit sideways in the car, with her back against the armrest of the door.

Nora and Tianne discussed what to wear and who would drive whom, settling on dressy jeans and sparkly tops, with Tianne's husband Tyson driving them to and from.

Nora ended the call wondering what smelled so delicious, then she remembered the chicken. It was a good thing she'd picked up food, because her parents were at someone's retirement party and her mother wouldn't be making one of her tasty meals that night.

Sometimes Nora felt bad about still living with her parents at twenty-seven. She'd been able to stay home while she went to college, as Eugene, Oregon was a college town. She'd continued to stay after graduation, to save money and pay off her modest student loans, and nobody had asked her to leave. She was lucky she got along with her parents so well and actually enjoyed their company. Tianne had a theory it was because she was an only child, so she didn't experience the sibling rivalry that was the cause of so much family tension. With three kids of her own, Tianne was the expert on sibling rivalry.

Nora went inside the house and put some rice in the rice cooker to have with the chicken. Razzles, her nearly-deaf white cat, twirled around her feet, entranced by the scent of rotisserie chicken. He wasn't very old, but he had one green eye and one blue eye, a genetic abnormality that accompanied hearing problems in white cats.

Nora sank to the floor, along with the container of chicken, and pulled off a chunk for herself and a chunk for Razzles. She talked to Razzles, as she often did, telling him that on Monday she'd be back at the same old work, putting up with the same crap, but for now it was the weekend, and she planned to have fun.

Razzles was only interested in the chicken.

“It's good to know what you want,” she told him. “I want a new job and a hot man.”

She put her hand over her mouth and looked around, paranoid someone had heard and she'd jinxed herself.

*

The club, or lounge, or whatever it was, had a lineup by the time Nora and Tianne arrived. Eugene was known more for its bicycle-friendly geography than its night life, but the lineup certainly gave the place a big-city feel. The tiny sign above the door read
Mars, A Social Club.

Tianne said to Nora, “Social Club? What does that even mean?” Tianne's skin was cocoa-brown, her eyes were wide-set and orange-brown, and her nose was perfect for her face. A small bump at the top gave her an elegant, sophisticated look. She wore tight-fitting, shiny black pants over pointy-toed boots, and a lavender wrap top, which showed off her toned, yoga-fit body. Her hair had been chopped short recently, due to necessity—namely, grabby baby fingers—but she rocked her short 'do. It was naturally curly and bleached blond, contrasting with Tianne's dark skin. Her earrings were a waterfall of silver coins that made a tinkling sound Nora could hear, even over the sound of people in line complaining about the wait.

Nora squinted up at the sign. “They should call it
Mars, Good luck getting to touch the surface in one human lifetime.
”

A taxi pulled up and Kylie jumped out, wearing a cute button-down dress and scarf straight out of a safari-themed fashion shoot. “C'mere you sillies!” She waved the girls over. “We do promotions for the club. I'll go put a word in to the manager, and he'll give us the VIP treatment, or else.”

As Kylie went off to bat her eyelashes at the big-armed fellow near the door, waving her hands and producing business cards, Tianne put her arm around Nora and said, “Why don't you throw your weight around like that? Everybody spends their afternoons with Nora. You gotta use your little slice of fame, girl!”

Nora laughed. “Sure, you cover their eyes and I'll work my voice magic.”

A few minutes later, before they could even get chilly from the spring evening air, the three were ushered into Mars.

The bass-throbbing club was split into several small adjoining rooms, plus a main dance space, with two spiral staircases that led nowhere. Girls who looked like they could be in high school were dancing on the spiral stairs in their short skirts. Nora felt herself age five years in five seconds. “I need a drink,” she said.

“I need two,” Tianne said, nodding toward her chest. “One for each boob, to celebrate having them back to myself.” She turned to Kylie. “Did you see that photo going around, of the sexy black woman doing a headstand, topless, while breastfeeding a baby? That was me. I finally outraged the community of mommy bloggers, and my traffic has never been higher. I'm finally getting some serious ad revenue.”

“Let me know if you need a promotions manager,” Kylie said.

“I don't think we're there yet, but maybe someday.” Tianne pointed at Kylie's silky brown hair. “You have the nicest hair, and I love this dress.”